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This paper examines the introduction to Britain of the Gräfenberg ring, an early version of what later became known as an intrauterine device (IUD). The struggle during the interwar years to establish the value of the ring provides an opportunity for a case study of the evaluation and acceptance of a new medical device. With the professionalization of the birth control movement and the expansion of birth control clinics in interwar Britain, efforts to develop better scientific means for contraception grew rapidly. At the end of the nineteenth century, methods for controlling fertility ranged from coitus interruptus and abstinence, to diverse substances ingested or placed into the vagina, to barrier methods. The first decades of the twentieth century brought early work on chemical contraceptives as well as a number of new intrauterine devices, among them the Gräfenberg ring. Developing a cheap, reliable, and widely acceptable contraceptive became a pressing goal for activists in the voluntary birth control movement in Britain between the wars. Yet, tensions developed over the best form of contraception to prescribe. By situating the Gräfenberg ring within the context of the debates and competition among British medical and birth control professionals, this paper reveals broader issues of power relationships and expertise in the assessment of a new medical technology. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Britain's mid-nineteenth-century healthcare economy has often been described as a "medical marketplace" in which struggling doctors faced intense competition from a range of unqualified rivals. Chemists and druggists, who proliferated in industrial cities and supposedly prospered by exploiting the poor and the gullible, are widely regarded as having presented a serious threat to medical livelihoods. However, the activities of four Gloucester chemists show how the dispensing of medical prescriptions brought individual chemists and doctors closer together. Competition between chemists and druggists for this trade was intense and it was instrumental in establishing them as trusted community pharmacists and giving impetus to the process of professionalization. Prescription books, an under-represented source in the literature, also show that customers for prescription medicines were surprisingly socially diverse and that most prescriptions were collected by women, with significant variation in dispensing activity through the week. This, and the volume of prescriptions being dispensed, suggest prescription medicines were regularly being used to treat chronic and less serious ailments, where collection could await normal shopping days. Significantly, prescriptions were the property of the patients and could be re-presented whenever they thought fit. For some patients, it thus effectively became an instrument of self-medication. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

This article explores how and why student mental health became an issue of concern in British universities between 1944 and 1968. It argues that two factors drew student mental health to the attention of medical professionals across this period: first, it argues that the post-war interest in mental illness drew attention to students, who were seen to be the luminaries of the future, investing their wellbeing with particular social importance. Second, it argues that the development of university health services made students increasingly visible, endorsing the view that higher education posed distinctive yet shared mental challenges to young people. The article charts the expansion of services and maps the implications of the visibility of student mental distress for post-war British universities. It suggests that claims that British higher education is currently in the midst of an unprecedented mental health "crisis" should be seen within this broader historical context, for while the contours of the debates around student mental health have shifted substantially, evidence that there was anxiety around student mental wellbeing in the immediate post-war years undermines accusations that contemporary students constitute a unique "snowflake generation." [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

This article explores prisoners' observations of mental illness in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century British prisons, recorded in memoirs published following their release. The discipline of separate confinement was lauded for its potential to improve prisoners' minds, inducing reflection and reform, when it was introduced in the 1840s, but in practice led to high levels of mental breakdown. In order to maintain the integrity of the prison system, the prison authorities played down incidences of insanity, while prison chaplains lauded the beneficent influence of cellular isolation. In contrast, as this article demonstrates, prisoners' memoirs offer insights into the prevalence of mental illness in prison, and its poor management, as well as inmates' efforts to manage mental distress. As the prison system became more closed, uniform and penal after the 1860s, the volume of such publications increased. Oscar Wilde's evocative prison writings have attracted considerable attention, but he was only one of many prison authors criticizing the penal system and decrying the damage it inflicted on the mind. Exploration of prison memoirs, it is argued, enhances our understanding of experiences of mental disorder in the underexplored context of the prison, highlighting the prisoners' voice, agency and advocacy of reform. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

The period 1961-76 was one of marked contestation in Britain about how organs should be obtained from recently deceased people's bodies to transplant into ailing strangers. Most were being removed from hospital patients' corpses without these people's prior consent, under a law that enabled hospital authorities to so authorize the use of a body with one caveat: enquiries should first be made to learn whether the dead person had in life objected to this or whether a family member did. Transplant surgeons argued that this requirement severely hampered their enterprise. They pushed for the 1961 Human Tissue Act to be overturned, to enable them to presume that all patients in British hospitals had consented to their organs being removed when they died, with no requirement that relatives' views be sought first. As a contemporary ethicist noted, this savored more of "conscription than of voluntary service" in the cause.' The following essay, based on an examination of archival sources, reveals the historical complexity of arguments that continue to be made in favor of presumed consent to organ "donation," analyzing how early attempts to change the law in that direction failed while revealing the presence of different interests and values in this contest over corpses. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]